


Fickle Little Thing

by ever_enthralled



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Cunnilingus, Desk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Infidelity, Jealousy, Multiple Pairings, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29583030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ever_enthralled/pseuds/ever_enthralled
Summary: Some things never change.
Relationships: Erwin Smith/Reader, Nile Dok/Reader
Comments: 21
Kudos: 127





	Fickle Little Thing

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I've been on a really big Nile kick lately. I've always had a soft spot for him and started writing this a few months ago. Then we were gifted his beautiful face in season four and I had to finish it.   
> 2\. I've been awful about replying to comments. I don't really have an excuse other than being overwhelmed. I truly, deeply appreciate everyone who gives me feedback, and I read every comment. I just don't have the mental energy to reply to everyone, and I apologize for that.  
> Anyway, enjoy this smutty garbage~

You’ve been inside the capitol for all of two minutes before a strong hand is clamping around your arm, tugging you harshly out of the crowd and steering you to the nearest deserted hallway.

_“Ow—what the fu—”_ You tear yourself from Nile’s grip and glare up at him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He asks, brown eyes wide, brow high in shock and panic the way yours should be.

Rearing back, you scoff. “Um, attending the ceremony I was _invited_ to?”

He waves you off, “That’s not what I meant,” then uses the same hand to gesture to your body. “I meant, what the hell do you think you’re doing wearing _that?”_

You glance down at yourself, at the elegant wine-red gown you’re wearing, how the skirt just barely brushes the floor, and the high slit shows off a little more than necessary. Off shoulder sleeves hug your arms, almost level with the scooped neckline, and you watch as Nile follows the thin gold chain from your throat all the way to the small gem that hangs just over your cleavage.

You wish you could have seen his face when he first saw you, but this is nice too.

“My _wife_ is here,” he hisses, and you try to keep your smirk hidden, just cock your head to the side and blink up at him like you don’t know what you’re doing.

“I sincerely hope she has a great time,” you tell him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, sir.”

He chokes down a noise of dissatisfaction as you move to slip past him, but you only manage a couple steps before his fingers catch yours again, and you stop in your tracks.

Glancing back at him, you find Nile looking more annoyed than anything when he grumbles a quiet, “Just let me get it out of my system. Fuck.”

Now, you don’t bother to hide your smile, just allow him to pull you further into the labyrinth that is Mitras’ capitol building. Being commander of the Military Police, he has keys to nearly every room, but he doesn’t want to do this just anywhere—no, he’s most comfortable in his own element, his own office.

You are too familiar with the setting, know the room like the back of your hand at this point—the couch against the wall, the cluttered bookshelf, especially the space under his desk. Your knees ache just thinking about it.

You’re used to quick romps behind the locked door, Nile’s hand tight over your mouth as he fucks you hard and fast.

Just to get it out of his system. Like he always says.

Now though, once the lock is in place, the man crowds you over to his desk, pushes you gently until you’re sitting and leaning back, then he lowers himself to his knees, a sight you’re not at all used to seeing. He takes one of your ankles, trails his hand further up your calf and thigh, pushing your dress up as he goes.

“So fucking pretty—why do you have to be _so fucking pretty?”_ He swears, leaning down to drag his lips over your skin as he moves. His stubble scratches against you, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and you finally start to tremble where you sit.

You usually break faster, but you had come here tonight with a confidence you don’t often possess. You knew you would turn heads— _his_ head—knew this was an evening for you to shine. Fuck, you’re one of the few people getting awarded here, outstanding service to the MPs (roughly translate to: not a lazy, power hungry alcoholic).

Nile had recommended you himself. As he should. You do more work around here than almost anyone else, and that’s not even including the extra hours you spend _‘making your boss’ life easier’._

So, what had he truly expected? That you would just show up in your every-day uniform? Keep acting like the humble little errand girl you started out as? Not a chance.

“This is such a good color on you,” Nile groans as he noses silky fabric further up to your waist, exposing the skimpy panties you like to wear for him. 

He really does love red on you, whether it’s your eyes bloodshot from gagging on his cock or the shimmering stone of his bolo tie between your teeth as a makeshift gag, he’s always appreciated it. It’s precisely why you picked it for your dress.

“How do you know _exactly_ how to drive me fucking crazy?” He hooks long fingers into your underwear and begins pulling them down, careful not to snag them on your heels before diving between your thighs.

Your gasp is sharp as it pierces your throat, the feeling of his tongue dipping between your folds making your eyes roll into the back of your head. He’s careful not to graze you with his teeth, but you wouldn’t call him gentle—out of his mind with lust as he licks into you, spreading your lips with his fingers to get deeper, to taste more.

You hold your dress up for him, gripping the material tightly, knowing it’ll cause wrinkles, but fuck, you can’t care. Not right now, not when Nile is sucking on your clit, not when he pushes a thumb into your clenching little cunt.

Biting your tongue to keep from crying out, you do your best to push your hips further into his hand, silently begging for more. Nile flicks his tongue over the swelling bud, and you can feel more than hear his hum of satisfaction when your legs start to shake on his shoulders.

He leans back just enough to ask, “Already getting close for me, baby?” but doesn’t let you answer before he’s pushing two fingers into your dripping pussy.

He knows your body so well at this point—too well—after the years spent experimenting as cadets then more or less picking up where you left off as adults once you were transferred to him. He knows all your spots, all your tells, knows just what to do to bring you to the edge—

“Not just yet.” 

And knows exactly how to leave you a desperate mess.

_“Nile,”_ you whine, literal tears in your eyes as he stands up.

You hear the smirk in his voice when he tells you, “One second. I wanna feel you come on my cock.”

His eyes are only half open as he looks over your quaking body, licks his lips at the sight of you laid out for him. He’s told you before this is the image that plagues him when he’s in bed with his wife, his daughters just one room over.

And, it shouldn’t please you to know he thinks of you at home. You shouldn’t feel satisfied. What you’re doing with him is wrong, and both of you know it.

You just can’t stop.

He’s one of your oldest friends. Once you transferred from Hermina, he had said he was relieved to have someone he could depend on working so closely beneath him.

By the end of that first week, you found yourself in his office _literally_ beneath him.

_“Just this once,”_ he’d groaned into your neck, cock buried in your tight cunt.

And, you had agreed, _“Just this once.”_

Now, look at you, a feast for the commander to help himself to whenever he pleases, always welcoming him with open arms (and legs). He knows it too, that you’re at his beck and call. All he really has to do is look at you a certain way and you’re biting your lip and sinking to your knees.

You watch in a daze as he finally shrugs out of his jacket, letting it pool on the floor, then untucks his shirt and unbuttons his slacks to pull himself free from their confines. Already hard and beading precum, Nile gives his cock a couple strokes before leaning forward and lining himself up.

Then, he’s pushing inside of you, making you arch off the desk and cling to him as you’re filled with him. This is what keeps you coming back, this sensation of Nile stretching you so perfectly, how he hits your spot with each inward thrust, how he knows just when and how to return to your clit, rubbing methodical circles until your jaw drops wide.

Two fingers are shoved into your mouth to keep you quiet, and you suck and drool around them as Nile fucks you a little slower than normal, like he’s trying to savor it. You don’t mind. Anything to keep him here just a little longer.

His face is still shiny with your slick, strands of it catching the lamp light and moving with his lips as he starts mumbling again.

_“You feel so good, fuck, fuck, you’re—”_ He takes his fingers out of your mouth, falls to his forearms and kisses you messily before finishing, _“Impossible. You’re impossible.”_

Grinning against him, you moan as his angle shifts, pressing harder on that spot inside of you with every drag of his cock.

“You lo— _love it, commander.”_

He makes a devious noise in his throat then catches your lips again, hips starting to piston faster. You can feel your orgasm building, coil tightening in your gut as your pussy throbs around him.

“Oh god, oh god, I’m close, fuck.”

He gags you again, falls into a ruthless pace that basically ensures you both end up coming together. You undulate beneath him, choking on spit and fingers when Nile empties himself inside you, cock twitching even after he’s finished as your pussy continues to pulse with aftershocks of your own climax.

Nile pants for several moments, lets his head rest against your chest and hums when you card your fingers through his hair. You’ll have to make sure he doesn’t look too disheveled when he steps back out to the public, to his wife.

Stomach dropping at the thought, you sigh and nudge him. “Come on, we need to go back out there.”

“I know, I know,” he grumbles, turning his face to nuzzle between your breasts in a way that makes you laugh. “Let me bask, alright?“ 

So you do for just for a few minutes, _basking_ in this post-orgasm high, wondering how you’re going to be able to face the crowd out there, how you’re going to look Marie Dok in the eye and smile, _oh yes, lovely to see you again, how are the girls?_

Nile doesn’t make it easy on you. Without a word, he retrieves your panties from wherever he tossed them and slips them back up your legs. 

He’s in a much better mood now than when he first found you, has that mischievous look in his eyes, the one you know very well but not many others do. It’s the same look he used to get when he’d steal potatoes from the mess hall during your cadet days, the same look when he scored cheat sheets for exams, the same look he gets now when he bullshits the brass to get his way. 

Material back in place at your hips, Nile takes special care to run a finger over your now clothed slit, pushing against it slightly and making you inhale sharply as you feel his cum leak from your pussy and soak into the fabric. He shows a self-satisfied grin, and he doesn’t have to say it because you know: even if he can’t spend the rest of the night with you, you’ll be well aware of his presence. 

"Congratulations on the award, baby,” he purrs, and you roll your eyes as you swat him away. 

“Fix your hair and go find your wife. I’ll stay behind for a few minutes.”

He insists on one more sloppy kiss then does as told, straightening his bolo tie on the way out the door and leaving you to right yourself. 

You do your best to make yourself presentable again, smooth your dress down, tuck flyaway hairs into your up-do, fix any smudged makeup. 

The banquet hall is packed when you get back to it, aristocrats of Wall Sina mingling with the military’s higher ups. You see many familiar faces and even more strangers, nod and smile at other MPs as you pass them to get to the nearest tray of wine. 

All the while you feel Nile. You have no idea where he is now, if he found Marie or got caught by someone important on the way, Premier Zackly or Commander Pixis. 

You down a glass of wine like it’ll help get rid of the feeling between your legs, but all it does is mix with the sludge in your stomach and make you feel even worse. 

You power your way through a few conversations, shake some hands and pretend to be bashful when they realize your name is one on the itinerary. 

“Nominated by Commander Dok himself,” Zackly tells one of the nobles, squeezing your shoulder as he laughs. “I was fairly surprised when I heard. The man is grumpy on his best days. You must be a damn good MP to gain his approval like that.”

“I do what I can for the brigade. I’m just glad to be of service.”

“Spoken like a top soldier!”

Accepting the medal is no small affair. You have to walk across the stage on legs weak from nerves, stomach flipping with guilt as you stare into the crowd and finally catch sight of Nile in the front row with Marie, straight faced and clapping while Djel fucking Sannes pins the medal to you. 

It was supposed to be the Commander, but Nile made the excuse of having shaky hands to the nobles, said he _“would hate to stab my top soldier in front of hundreds of people."_

In reality, he didn’t want to have to _touch you_ in front of hundreds of people, convinced that somehow, someone would put the pieces together from just a few seconds of the two of you alone on stage. 

He’s so full of shit sometimes. 

Now you have to deal with Sannes fumbling with the pinning, pinky brushing your chest too many times to be considered accidental. Worst of all, you can still feel that warmth pooled in your panties, that constant reminder. 

Afterward, you mingle more, another glass of wine in your hand as you’re congratulated over and over again. 

Just as you’re starting to feel buzzed, Nile approaches you, Marie looking absolutely beautiful hanging off his arm. Your heart beats too quickly, palms sweating, face hot as they stop in front of you. 

"Good job up there,” Nile says, immediately cringing outwardly as you do so inwardly. 

You hide it with a laugh. “Wasn’t exactly difficult, sir. It wasn’t a performance.” _Not like this is_. “Though, I will say, if Sannes touched my boob one more time, I would have definitely made a scene and shoved him off stage." 

Marie giggles and nods. "I knew he was!” She nudges her husband who swallows and averts his eyes from you. “Nile said I was just seeing things, but a woman knows when another woman is in trouble, right?" 

You agree, hoping Marie’s _womanly senses_ are not privy to your current discomfort. 

"Definitely.”

No idea how you’re going to continue this conversation without dying, you nearly sigh in relief when a new but very familiar figure walks up, none other than Erwin Smith, Commander of the Scout Regiment and another old friend. 

“Moving up in the ranks, I see,” he opens with a charming smile that leaves both you and Marie blushing. 

Nile sucks his teeth then greets, “Erwin.”

“Nile. Good to see you.”

You’re grateful to feel tension that isn’t yours, momentarily distracted from your own moral struggles and smirking at the two men who once got along so well. 

“How are you, Commander?” You ask with a sweet smile, unaware of the way Nile sets his jaw. 

“Alive,” he answers. 

Nile mumbles a quiet, “Against all odds,” that earns him another nudge from Marie. 

Erwin ignores it, eyes on you, bright blue and shining with amusement. “And, you?" 

"I’ve been well. Living the good life in the capitol, winning esteemed awards,” you joke, gesturing to the medal pinned to you. 

“Much more dignified than the life of a Scout.”

“Hence why you’re the only one who joined that god-forsaken branch,” you quip, and Nile finally lets a laugh bubble from his chest. 

Erwin grins, but his gaze shifts between you and the other commander, probably contemplating whether arguing is even worth his time, if you’d even be interested in one of his inspirational _for humanity_ lectures. 

He must decide against it because he changes the subject, though it isn’t to anything better. 

“You haven’t written me in a while.”

Looking down at your empty glass, you shrug. “Been busy, Erwin. MPs don’t get breaks between jobs like Scouts do.”

“Oh, don’t tell me Nile hasn’t been giving you any days off.”

The way he says it makes you look up at him too quickly, alarm and guilt clear in your eyes to anyone who’s searching for it. 

And Erwin is. 

He nods once, a silent _“knew it”_ written all over his smug face, and you want to throttle him. He always was too smart for his own good. 

Nile obviously does not pick up on the realization, just huffs and tells the other man, “She gets weekends off, thank you very much. Might just not be interested in talking to you. Ever thought of that?" 

"N— _Sir_.”

“The thought did cross my mind, actually,” Erwin says. “Pity… I won’t hold it against you, though. I understand if you’re _satisfied_ with the way things are.”

You run your tongue over your front teeth, eyes narrowing as Erwin smirks around the rim of his glass.

Everyone is quiet for too long. Your face feels far too hot, and your hands are shaking in their clenched positions. 

“‘Scuse me,” you murmur, forcing a polite smile for Marie, allowing it to falter slightly when you look to Nile, then completely abandoning the expression as you turn your back to the group and begin walking toward one of the further wings of the capitol. 

You are not even a little surprised to hear boots clacking close behind you, don’t bother chancing a glance at who it is because you know. And, well, it’s not like this is the first time you’ve been down this road. 

“Old habits really must die hard,” Erwin’s baritone voice rings out as soon as the both of you step into the mostly vacant hallway.

You release a heavy sigh and give him your full attention once again. “I guess they do considering you’re doing the same old song and dance you used to in training.”

Erwin chuckles, at least has the decency to turn a little pink as he nods. “I guess I am.”

The two of you continue walking through the stone corridor, empty enough for your footsteps to echo, and it makes his voice seem deafening when he reminds you, “He’s married,” like you don’t already know. Like the simple fact doesn’t keep you up at night.

“I’m well aware.”

The sounds of the celebration in the main hall begin to grow dimmer, raucous laughter turning to distant melodies, and just like that, you are alone with Erwin Smith. 

It’s been years, but fuck, everything about him is familiar, from his patient smile to his omniscient gaze. Yes, he’s taller, broader, _older_ , but you can still see a not-so-subtle hint of the over-excitable boy you used to call your best friend.

“How’s Miche?” You ask to break the awkward silence. 

Erwin doesn’t miss a beat, unfazed by the change in subject. “Fine. Still saving my life with that nose of his. He’s around here somewhere, probably overwhelmed by all the perfume.”

“Yeah?” 

You find yourself grinning, recalling the time a gangly Miche slapped a spoon out of your hand one day in the mess hall while barking more than speaking, _“Don’t eat that,”_ splattering the sorry excuse for stew all over the front of your shirt. _“Gone bad.”_

That had ended in you running off to change, Erwin hot on your heels while Nile had whined to Miche about how he needed to be careful because _“What if it was still hot? It could have burned her!”_

Those were the days. 

“So, the two daughters don’t bother you?”

You blink up at Erwin, brows knitting together before cursing and admitting, “Of fucking course it bothers me!”

“Then why—”

“I don’t know, Erwin!” You hiss suddenly, temper only rising when Erwin simply cocks his head to the side. 

You’ve reached a bend in the corridor, deep in the capitol’s guts, near to the door that leads to the underground holding cells. It’s doubtful you’ll be running into anyone else in these parts, yet you still feel the need to stay quiet as you rant to the golden commander in front of you. 

“It’s familiar, and it’s good, and it’s _Nile_. It just happened.”

“Is that what you’ll tell Marie if she ever finds out—It just happened?”

It stings, and you have to flex your fingers by your side to keep from lashing out. 

“Still haven’t outgrown that affection for her then,” you tut, scrambling for the only defense mechanism you can find and holding it tightly. Make it about him. Just turn it around—

“And _you_ still haven’t outgrown your jealousy of her.”

_“My_ jealousy?” You scoff, nearly choking on the sudden onslaught of tears you’re trying to hold back. How dare he? How _dare_ he? 

“So you following me back here and shaming me for my decisions is stemming from, what, concern? Nothing more?”

You look at Erwin with narrowed eyes, study his perfectly schooled features and wait for them to morph into an expression of denial or guilt or—

“You know exactly why I followed you,” he states, face finally changing, but there is no defensiveness or apology to be found, just darkening eyes, parted lips, and two large hands moving up to caress your cheeks. “Old habits, remember?” 

His mouth is scalding on yours, his tongue claiming as it slides past your lips. You whimper and clutch the lapels of the green coat Erwin is wearing, the Scout’s formal jacket over his regular uniform. He looks damn good in it, always has. 

He pulls back just enough to grumble against you, _“You know I’ve always hated finding you two fooling around—”_ begins nosing his way down your jawline and to your neck, stooping dramatically to suck a mark just below your ear. _“I used to see red when we were all young, walk into the barracks to find you on top of him—”_ his hands slide down your body to your hips, and he uses long fingers to quickly pull the fabric of your dress up, bundling it at your hips in an attempt to free your legs enough to wrap around his waist when he lifts you. 

He has you pinned between his body and the wall, grinding himself against your core as he continues to mutter to you between little nips to the sensitive skin of your neck, “— _should’ve known you’d start it all back up again, no regard for anyone else…”_ You can feel how hard he is, and your breath hitches in your throat when Erwin sinks his teeth into your skin just a little too hard. 

He trusts you to cling to him when he lets go of your waist in order to work at the belts in the way of his pants, making quick work of them after years of practice. You feel the muscles in his neck strain as he chances a glance over his shoulder to make sure the two of you are still alone, then frees his cock from his pristine, white riding pants. 

There’s a slight pinch of fabric at the junction of your hips as Erwin rips your flimsy underwear with little to no effort. You pout at him, “Could’ve just pushed them to the side.”

Erwin makes a noise of disagreement, tells you, “Cheap lace chafes,” which offends you more than it should, but you don’t have much time to think about it as a thick finger is pushed into your pussy, still wet and a little swollen from before.

You let out a shuddering breath, trying not to moan as you think about the fact that you’ve definitely been walking around stuffed full of Nile’s cum, and Erwin is no doubt fucking it deeper into you now.

“If you’d just joined the Survey Corps…”

A laugh bubbles out of you, barely discernible through the pathetic noises of pleasure that accompany it. “I could what… Fuck you instead? Until we’re eaten by titans?”

Erwin rubs the pad of his finger over that especially sensitive spot inside of you, and your thighs clamp tightly around him as you let out a long groan, hardly even hearing him as he tells you, “I was going to say explore the world together, actually.” Another perfectly aimed thrust of his finger has you shaking. “You always were a little morbid.”

“Hard not to be in a world like this,” you tell him breathlessly, letting your head rest against the cool stone behind you as you finally catch his gaze again. “Okay, come on, I’m ready for you.”

“Are you now?” Erwin teases. “Are you sure I’ll be able to satisfy you like Nile apparently can?”

You roll your eyes but smile. “You never disappointed me before.”

“Hm, flatterer.” His tone is sarcastic, but he still lines himself up with your entrance, and you immediately break into a sweat as he starts guiding himself in. 

You don’t remember him being this big, but it has been a _while_ , and he has _grown_. Erwin is thick, the blunt head of his cock stretching you to your limits as he slowly makes a place for himself inside of you. 

Panting, you claw at his shoulders, can’t decide on if you want to grit your teeth your drop your jaw because holy shit, he almost feels like—

Erwin finally groans, a low sound that reverberates in your chest cavity. He gives you time to adjust, to turn your head to rest your heated cheek on the cold wall. Holding you by the hips, he rubs small circles over your dress in a soothing gesture, but the satisfied smirk on his handsome face is unmistakable. 

You wriggle some, huff and whimper, then nod for him to start moving. Erwin starts slow at first, keeping you pinned to thrust up into you—long strokes that leave drool pooling in your mouth, make your walls spasm around him.

It’s hard not to get embarrassed at the lewd squelches that are echoing through the corridor, wet and loud, a dead giveaway to anyone who ventures this far into the capitol and quickly joined by the equally perverse sound of you sucking and whining around two of Erwin’s fingers when he slips them into your mouth.

“Good little slut,” he grunts. “You always did take whatever I had to give you. Whatever we had to give you.” He punctuates it by picking up his pace, hips snapping against yours with a controlled sort of ruthlessness. The ridge of his cock drags over your g-spot with every upward stroke, and you feel the way you’re beginning to drip around him and possibly onto the floor between his feet. 

“—ck, —ck, Er— _nng—”_ You choke on his name, but it’s still clear enough for him to make out.

Erwin drops his hand from your mouth. “What’d you call me?”

You groan and correct yourself, “Commander,” but you can’t help but add a smart-aleck, “Officers and their stupid authority kinks.”

“If you can humor Nile, I’m sure you can make the effort for me too.” Erwin kisses you before you can protest, effectively silencing you while sheathing himself over and over. It’s probably for the best; your propensity for full, coherent thoughts is beginning to dwindle, at the point where the only thing you’re really good for is babbling nonsensical praise and taking cock.

_“Fuck, so good, so good,”_ you slur, hips moving on their own volition as you try to meet his thrusts as best you can in your mostly immobilized state. 

“Say it again,” Erwin demands, and you giggle drunkenly in response. He may be trying to make you into the bad guy here, but in truth, he’s always been much more jealous and possessive than you can ever recall being. It has something to do with his dedication and drive—he wants to be the best at everything. _“Say it,”_ he repeats. 

_“So good, Commander,”_ you oblige with a moan. _“You’re so fucking good, oh—”_

“Can anyone else fuck you as well as I can?” His voice is rough, laced with lust and avarice. 

_“N-no—”_ you start only to squeal when he reaches between the two of you to toy with your clit. _“No! Fuck, only you, only you,”_ you tell him. 

You’re hot all over, sweating under your dress, hair long fallen out of place as your cunt contracts around him. Your climax is in reach, getting closer with every methodical stroke and circle. Your back arches, muscles coiling tight enough to hurt, and you know you’re going to be incredibly sore tomorrow. 

Erwin is panting, his jaw slack as he focuses on perfect thrusts and direct stimulation to your little bud. He may be selfish in a few ways, but this is definitely not one of them, always giving you exactly what you want. 

“Did you let Nile come inside you earlier?” He asks seemingly out of nowhere, cerulean eyes hazy when they lock with yours. He already knows the answer, could have seen the evidence in your ruined panties if he’d cared to look, so there’s no sense in lying. He’s probably been thinking about it for some time now anyway.

_“Yesss.”_

“Yes, what?”

You swallow, trying not to brazenly moan as he fucks _so deeply_ into you. “Yes, sir. I let him—let him come inside me.”

He growls in response, finger pressing harder against your clit almost in punishment. 

“So, you’ll let me come inside too?” 

Raking nails down his clothed back, you nod, wishing you could split his skin open and mark him the way you used to. 

“You wanna be filled up?” He questions in faux gentleness. It’s all condescension, all amusement— _dumb little slut wants to be stuffed with her commanders’ cum_.

Even knowing this, you’re not above begging, _“Yes, yes, please—”_ because you’re so fucking close, still sensitive from earlier and now wildly overstimulated, every thrust making stars erupt behind your eyes, every flick of his finger making you quake, fuck fuck fuck—

Your eyebrows raise, your mouth drops open, and your whole body shudders, only encouraged when Erwin murmurs, “Always so pretty when you come,” while he continues to fuck you. 

You pulse around his length, slick leaking around him, and you can just imagine how his cock is probably coated in the viscous fluid as well as your thick cream. 

“Keep squeezing me just like that, sweetheart, fucking—”

Still trembling through the aftershocks of your own orgasm, you moan when Erwin buries himself as deeply as he can before spilling into you. He holds you in place while milking himself then finally stills, breaths heavy as he leans in for a slow kiss. 

“Just like the old days?” You ask, snickering when Erwin’s tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip.

“Better,” he says, leaning back to reveal a somewhat thoughtful pout. “Though, definitely still the same in a few ways.” 

He pulls out, making both of you shiver and grunt, then helps smooth your dress down. There’s no getting rid of all the wrinkles, near ruined in some places, but that’s okay. You’d worn it with one purpose in mind and got even more than you’d bargained for. 

“In a _few_ ways?” You press. 

Situating himself back in his pants, Erwin grins more to himself than to you when he says, “For one, you still feel as good as I remember.” The statement makes your face heat all over again. “Wasn’t expecting all the same feelings, though. The jealousy in particular.”

You shrug your shoulders then bend down to retrieve your ripped panties from the ground. Can’t just leave those laying around. “Something we all struggle with, I guess.”

“I suppose.” 

Erwin adjusts his jacket then holds out an arm to you, prompting, “Come on. You’re probably exhausted. Let me get you home.”

You take his arm but tell him, “I’m just taking a carriage. I’ll be fine.” 

The assistance walking is much appreciated, your legs weak and unsteady as you try not to roll an ankle in your heels. There’s also the added anxiety of trying your hardest to keep too much cum from dripping out of you, tired muscles clenched as you take the long route to the front of the capitol in order to avoid walking through the packed main hall.

You catch sight of Nile and Marie just as you exit through the massive doors, and you don’t miss the way your boss’ dark eyes narrow even from such a distance. 

All you do is shake your head, though, letting Erwin lead you to the nearest empty carriage and helping you up into it. 

“We’re in Mitras for a few more days before returning to Wall Rose,” he tells you, light from the moon shrouding him in a complementary silver glow. “We should get together, maybe actually _talk_ and catch up.”

You laugh, the sound thin and worn out. “Yeah, I’d like that, Erwin.”

He flashes a fond smile that makes your stomach flip, tells you, “Get some rest,” then shuts the carriage door and makes his way back into the lively building. 

You sit still for a moment, knowing you need to peek out and tell the coachman where to take you, but for now, all you can really do is sigh. 

You should have known trying to get the better of Nile at such a public event would backfire somehow. You can’t say you could have foreseen this exact outcome, but you also can’t say you’re all that surprised. 

Only one thing is missing now, one final piece that will truly make tonight just like old times.

As if on cue, the door to the carriage swings open, and the laugh you let out this time is much less tired—all glee and affection—when the hulking figure of Miche Zacharias slides into the seat across from you.

“About time,” you utter when your giggles die off.

Miche shoots you an unimpressed look. “What’re you talking about? I’ve been tailing you all night.”

Eyes widening, you scoff, holding a hand to your chest as if you’re offended despite not being even slightly caught off guard by this admission. 

“Pervert.”

He smiles sideways, shamelessly agrees with a simple, “Always,” then asks where you live now so that he can relay it to the coach. 

Once that’s taken care of, he moves to the bench you’re on, pulling you close and inhaling only to grunt in dissatisfaction.

“I’m throwing you in the bath as soon as we get to your place. You reek of them. _Both_ of them.”

“Don’t I always?” You all but sing before you both fall into reminiscing over the days you spent with three rambunctious boys in boot camp, two of them always pawing at you while one simply kept his distance and bided his time. You used to get so annoyed with Nile and Erwin always fighting each other, too wrapped up in their feelings of jealousy to pay you any attention. 

So, you’d just leave both of them to sort it out while you went to find Miche, hitting him with your best pout and puppy dog eyes until he’d open his arms to you. In truth, you were always closest with him. 

“So, were you being honest with Erwin earlier?” He asks as the horses set off at a trot, pulling the carriage over bumpy cobblestone. 

“Hm?” You hum into his shoulder where your head is resting. 

“He asked if anyone else can fuck you as well as he can,” Miche says, voice low but not shy—matter-of-fact almost. “You said no.”

“Fuck, you were just _listening?”_

Miche snorts. “To quote the both of you, _old habits die hard_.” 

God, you can’t even imagine how many times the man beside you now has listened to you fuck his friends. 

“You’re so fucking…” You trail off into an exasperated breath. 

Miche has always been strange, but he has also always been good. 

“Anyway, _no_. The answer is no. You’ve always been the best out of the three, and you know it—” you elbow him in the ribs, pulling a wheeze and a chuckle from the huge soldier. “But, I’m not about to tell Erwin that mid-fuck.”

“Mm,” Miche nods slowly. “Good. Here I was afraid I’d have to remind you.”

Your lips twitch up into a smirk. “I mean, I wouldn’t be averse to that. You know, just to drive the point home.”

Miche’s laugh is warm and deep, just like the kiss he graces you with. His massive hand cups your face, calloused thumb stroking over the apple of your cheek as he rumbles, “I can do that for you.”

“I bet you can.”

“But first,” he pulls away. “The bath.”

“Right, right, the bath.”


End file.
